


Breaking a Boy's Heart

by fbn059



Category: Persona 4, Persona Series
Genre: Age Difference, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Rejection, Ton of Cliches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 07:13:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3887107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fbn059/pseuds/fbn059
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yosuke has feelings for a certain detective and crashes his bike. Guest starring Souji! Dojima and Yosuke, and future Souji/Yosuke. Not really a happy ending as you can probably see from the title, but sex does ensue, I promise! (sort of).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking a Boy's Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yamiyoru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamiyoru/gifts).



> Written for my friend IRL, Yamiyoru, who managed to persuade me into writing this for her birthday. I borrowed her phrase about kicking puppies for this one. I'm no writer, and to be honest I banged this out after only a few hours of gameplay, but I hope you enjoy.

Yosuke could barely remember what Dojima-san was saying when he first met the detective at the precinct. Something about carrying weapons and being a public menace. Souji looking slightly sheepish, trying to explain why exactly was Yosuke waving a fake katana around, but without revealing the whole venturing-into-a-TV-screen-to-rescue-the-missing-girl business. He didn’t even remember if Chie was there with them.

What he did remember with perfect clarity, however, was Dojima-san. He remembered a tall, intimidating man. Greying hair and a careworn face, with sunken cheeks and a week’s worth of stubble. Dark, tired eyes that have probably seen more death, violence and pain than anyone could tolerate in a lifetime. A gravelly voice, weary but dangerous as it gave the three teenagers a warning before dismissing them. Yosuke remembered his heart pounding, his cheeks flushing. Souji had glanced at his friend then, and jumping to the first conclusion that came to mind, patted Yosuke on the shoulder with a quick smile.

‘Don’t worry, we’re not going to get in trouble. My uncle will take care of that. Come on, we’ve got work to do!’

‘Wait, that was your uncle?!’ Yosuke said weakly. ‘God he’s scary! It’s nice he let us off and all, but damn he’s scary!’

He remembered his eyes trailing after the older man as he strode away, his jacket thrown over his back. He remembered the scent of him fading away, a heady mix of strong coffee and the musk of sweat. Yosuke knew then, as he knew now, that in spite of all common sense, he was completely and utterly smitten. And he had more than enough sense to know that it was something he should never tell anyone.

Yosuke saw Dojima-san occasionally on the streets, usually on a case. The detective was always too distracted to give him a second glance as he passed, but Yosuke treasured every glimpse of the man. Sometimes, he would scrutinise Souji’s face for any family resemblance. It typically led to Souji raising an eyebrow, and remarking with a mischievous glint in his normally passive eyes, ‘Is there something on my face? Or are you going to confess your undying love?’, making Yosuke sputter.

At times, Yosuke was almost glad there were the endless trips through the Midnight Channel, the never-ending battles, and the music roaring through his headphones to focus his thoughts on the monsters in front him. To make him shove the image of the detective to the back of his mind as they prepared for yet another life-or-death fight.

While Yosuke lay in bed, however, with one of those sleepless nights stretching out in front of him, thoughts of Dojima-san filled his heart with an indescribable ache and his groin with a tingling sensation that he knew was never supposed to be triggered by a man old enough to be his father.

_You’re sick, Yosuke. Get a hold of yourself. What the hell are you thinking?_

That nagging voice in his head could never stop him from rolling over, closing his eyes and getting up on his hands and knees. Pulling his erection out of his pants and thrusting it into his hand, panting and gasping. Imagining Dojima-san’s hands on his skin, Dojima-san pounding into him, the rough voice growling into his ear, hot breath and stubble brushing against his cheek.

The orgasm would come minutes later with a stifled whimper, flooding his hand with a warm, sticky mess and filling him with self-loathing. After a quick grab at the box of tissues at his bedside and a frenzied clean-up, Yosuke would fall back on his bed with a sigh, blinking back tears as he gazed at the ceiling.

_You can’t go on like this, Yosuke._

But Yosuke knew he had to. Confessing his love like a blushing schoolgirl was out of the question, yet trying to forget about this infatuation seemed just as impossible.

Yosuke lost count of the nights he did this, repeating the cycle of desire and shame, over and over again. One early morning, as the sun’s rays were just about to break over the horizon, Yosuke decided he had had enough of it all. He flung back his covers, threw on a change of clothes.

In a daze, he stumbled downstairs to grab his bike. In a daze, he swung a leg over the back wheel and pushed off, pedalling as hard as he could into the cold morning air, hoping to clear his head.

And in a daze, he rammed his bike into the back of a tall figure trudging along the street. As his head reeled from the initial shock of the fall, the first thought that came to his mind was _this is ridiculous. It’s gotta be a running joke by now._

Someone was shouting at him, asking if he was hurt, cursing ‘Damn kids riding around like they own the whole fucking street!’, and grasping his arm, helping him to his feet. The voice sounded familiar, and Yosuke peered up, his gaze locking onto a pair of dark, weary eyes, now filled with a strange mix of concern and irritation.

Dojima-san.

* * *

 

Detective Dojima sighed as he grabbed the first aid kit and strode towards the boy sitting in the living room. He remembered the kid. Brought into the precinct with his nephew for some silly nonsense or other. No harm done of course, just the usual rookie patrol officer being rather over-zealous and making an immediate arrest on the spot. Just what he needed too, more paperwork piled on top of his already migraine-inducing workload.

He shook his head as he felt another headache come on. And he gets a bike rammed into his back on a rare day off. (The head honcho had insisted on him taking a break.) ‘Great start to the day.’ he thought grimly as he dropped to the floor across from the boy.

‘Hanamura, was it? So, what’s your story?’ he asked, pulling out the disinfectant from the kit and eyeing the gash on Yosuke’s forehead. ‘I know you said you don’t want to, but you’d better get your ass to the hospital if you feel dizzy or start throwing up. That was a quite a fall.’

‘I— I’m very sorry sir.’ Yosuke muttered, not daring to look at the man’s face, but instead closing his eyes and reveling in the warmth of Dojima-san’s fingers holding his head steady, and trying to ignore the sting of the disinfectant as it was dabbed onto the wound.

Dojima sighed again as he placed a bandage over the grazed skin. ‘Why is it— I’m not trying to interrogate you, kid. Alright, you don’t wanna tell me why you were racing on your bike and crashing it into innocent bystanders at seven in the morning on a weekend, that’s fine. But if I get wind of anything and the suspect fits your description, don’t expect me to—’

He immediately relented as a look of horror crossed Yosuke’s face and he started stammering, ‘I wasn’t doing anything! And it was a complete accident, I swear! I er… I was just riding round to… Souji said he wanted some help with something, and I said I’ll come round, and I’m really, really sorry I ran my bike into you, sir, and I...’

Dojima closed his eyes and raised his hand over his face, massaging his temples with his fingers. _Yup, migraine definitely coming on now, he thought._

‘It’s okay, it’s okay.’ Dojima said, in what he hoped was a soothing manner. Yosuke was looking more and more like a kicked puppy as he babbled on, and he was in no mood to deal with a hysterical teenager.

‘Souji’s taken his cousin out for a walk. Said they’ll be back in a couple of hours, I think. You can wait for them here, if you like. Watch TV or something, I don’t know. And, no, I won’t tell Souji about your bicycle’s tyre mark on my back.’ He quirked his mouth in a rare smile, and patted Yosuke on the shoulder as he was about to get up.

‘Dojima-san.’ Yosuke said, in a small voice.

Dojima noticed, then, the boy had a rather strange look on his face. ‘What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick? Just hold on for—’

He never finished his sentence, as Yosuke surged up and pressed himself against him, bringing his lips to the older man’s own in a kiss that was both sweet and desperate, his hips grinding against Dojima’s stomach, his breath coming in short gasps.

Yosuke’s mind was almost a blank, and his body seemed to be moving on its own. All he knew was that he was kissing the man he had fallen for, and even now, he was falling faster and harder than he had ever thought possible.

When he finally pulled away, panting slightly, he heard a voice, as if from far away, saying, ‘What do you think you’re doing, Hanamura?’ It didn’t sound angry, but it was stern and cold, like a police officer catching sight of a wayward teenager vandalizing public property. And like most teenagers when addressed with that voice, he felt his insides shrink, and he drew back, babbling incoherently as he bared his heart and made his confession, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor and his face red.

Dojima was silent for what seemed an eternity to Yosuke, his gaze steady, and his countenance inscrutable.

Finally, he said, slowly, ‘Well. Didn’t see that coming. You could’ve just told me without running me over with a bike. Not exactly the best way to go about these things.’

And Yosuke started to laugh, in spite of himself. ‘You’re not angry, Dojima-san?’

Dojima looked at the boy, with what appeared to be warmth and sadness in his dark grey eyes, and he seemed more tired than before.

‘No, no of course not. But listen to me carefully. I… I can’t. I’m sorry, truly. I know it hurts, but I don’t really know any other way to say this.’

‘I— I know. I wasn’t really expecting a ‘yes’. I’m sorry for intruding on your—’

Yosuke broke down before he could go further, his sobs wracking his shoulders as he cried, his unruly hair falling over his face, a hand over his mouth to muffle the cries of agony coming from it. He knew the rejection would come, but he was unprepared for how much it would hurt.

Dojima winced. He could feel his migraine steadily getting worse as he waited for Yosuke to calm down. As he watched Yosuke’s face, twisted and red from crying, he guiltily wondered if he was going straight to hell for breaking the boy’s heart.

Then he gave up waiting as the sobbing continued to no end. Taking hold of the boy’s hand, he got him to his feet, and started leading him upstairs. When Yosuke finally realised where he was, he whimpered, ‘Dojima-san? What’s happening?’

‘Alright, kid. You get on that bed. I’ll suck your dick. After this, we’re even. You’ll go on your way, and we’ll never speak about this again. Do we understand each other? Say yes and we’ll start. Say no, and this conversation never happened.’ Yosuke felt like his face was on fire as he listened to those words, but he raised himself on his toes to plant a kiss on the man’s cheek, and said softly, ‘I’ll never say no to you, Dojima-san, not even if you beg me for it’.

* * *

 

Dojima was very gentle, for such a gruff man. His touch on Yosuke as he helped him out of his clothes was soft and warm, like Yosuke was something fragile and precious that he dared not break.

They started slow, with a kiss. Yosuke moaned as Dojima’s tongue entered his mouth, tasting faintly of strong black coffee, then gasped as the man broke the kiss to trail his tongue down his throat and across his collarbone, gently brushing kisses on the fine pale skin as he went.

As he ran his fingers through the greying hair and gripped Dojima’s shoulder so tightly he left marks on it, Yosuke silently prayed that it would never end. His head was spinning, and and the warmth sweeping his body felt almost too much to bear. For some reason, he was breathing hard, though he was mostly lying on his back, trembling every time Dojima touched him.

He watched the man placing kisses down his chest and stomach through half-closed eyes, wondering what was going through his mind. He thought about what it would be like to fall asleep every night with his head resting on that broad chest, what would it be like to have those strong hands grip his hips, what would it be like to be fucked by that cock. Then, every thought was seared out of his head as his erection was taken into Dojima’s mouth, dark, intense eyes burning into his own.

Nothing in Yosuke’s fantasies could have prepared him for this. The wet heat from Dojima’s mouth, the tongue teasing the engorged head slowly, the stubble on Dojima’s jaw brushing against the insides of his thighs as the man stopped every now and then to kiss them. He squirmed and thrashed about, calling out the name of the man he loved, over and over again, the blood pounding in his ears, his vision blurred by the unshed tears in his eyes. His hips were starting to move on their own, thrusting upwards, his breathing more laboured. He thought he was going mad as a string of profanity burst from his lips. He blushed, and immediately began to apologise until a short laugh from Dojima stopped him.

‘That’s alright, just let it out. It’s not the worst I’ve heard.’

And let it out, he did, cursing and swearing as he gave in to the lust and madness, until with ‘Fuck. Shit, shit I’m close. Oh god—Dojima-san... goddamn it all, I—ah—ah—’ he climaxed, shuddering and clutching Dojima’s head between his legs.

Through a haze, he saw Dojima push himself off the mattress, wipe the corner of his mouth with a hand, then walk round to sit by his head. He inhaled the scent of the man as he felt himself being taken up and held in strong, gentle arms, and a soft kiss pressed to his forehead. He heard the thumping of the man’s heart as he rested his head against the warm chest, Dojima murmuring, ‘I’m sorry. That’s all I can do for you. Go cry it out, get it out of your system. One day, you’ll find someone else, someone who will treat you better than I did. Just... don’t do anything stupid before that happens, we clear?’

And Yosuke nodded, knowing that it was the last time anyone would hold him like that, and the last time he would hear that low voice speaking so gently to him as it did now.

* * *

 

Dojima lay on his back, with an arm flung over his face, gritting his teeth as the pain of his headache threatened to split his skull open. He had helped Yosuke get cleaned up, and got him downstairs to wait for Souji and Nanako to come home before he could start crying again. As the sounds of chatter floated up to him, he thought, _Definitely going to hell for this._

 

* * *

 

Souji knew that there had been something wrong with Yosuke for some time, and when they had a moment in private, he was determined to do something about it. Yosuke smiled less, talked less. Sometimes, he just seemed to shut down, eyes blank even as Chie raged and screamed at him.

‘Yosuke, you probably don’t want to talk about this, but I need to know. Did something happen? Anything i can do to help?’

Yosuke shook his head, and exhaled slowly. ‘Nothing you can do about it man. Sorry.’ He paused, then continued. ‘But I think... I’ll be fine. Just give me some time. And I’ll be back to saying embarrassing shit and crashing into stuff on my bike before you know it.’

Souji laughed, then reached over to give his friend a squeeze on the shoulder and a smile. ‘Okay then. But if you ever need anything, you know where to find me. I’ve got your back.’

At that moment, Yosuke noticed some things in Souji he had seen a thousand times before, but the significance of them had never hit him till now. The same warmth and concern in his friend’s grey eyes. The same feel of that hand on his shoulder. The same quick, rare smile. And he knew that, somehow, everything was going to turn out just fine.


End file.
